


Tracing My Scars

by digestiivo



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Descriptions of Canon Typical Violence, Kissing, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Scar touching, Scars, Top Surgery Scars, Trans Hannibal Lecter, Trans Will Graham, a little fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 04:32:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16033052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digestiivo/pseuds/digestiivo
Summary: It starts when Will catches a glimpse of the silvery scarred skin on the underside of Hannibal's wrist.





	Tracing My Scars

**Author's Note:**

> edit: some minor rewrites of a part i was unhappy with!

_Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real._

\--

It starts when Will catches a glimpse of the silvery scarred skin on the underside of Hannibal's wrist. He remembers how triumphant he had felt in that moment, thinking that Hannibal was dead. That sense of victory rings hollow to him, knowing now that Hannibal's death should be by his hands alone, not by proxy of anyone else.

Before his brain can catch up with his body, he gently takes hold of the other man's wrist. Hannibal lets him with no protestation, letting the knife he had been using to prepare their dinner clatter gently on the counter.

Curiousity gives way to adoration as Will lifts the wrist to his lips and places a kiss to the scar there. Hannibal's eyes slip closed for a moment, reopening as Will guides his hand to his face, pressing his open palm against the jagged, freshly healed scar on his bearded cheek.

The image of the dragon's blade sinking deep into Will's flesh, blood gurgling passed his lips as he's lifted off the ground by ungodly strength, flashes before Hannibal's eyes. His upper lip attempts to twitch into a snarl before he stops himself. When he looks into Will's stormy eyes, he knows the same thoughts are echoing through the other's mind.

They will meet their ends by no one's hand but their own.

His fingers trail from Will's cheek up to the thin line across his forehead. He feels a twinge of something in his chest, not quite regret. Leaning forward, he presses a soft kiss to the scar.

Will releases Hannibal's wrist and begins unbuttoning his shirt, eyes expectant. Hannibal reluctantly withdraws from Will's space, just enough, opening his own white dress shirt. They mirror each other, button by button, until both of them stand before the other, shirts hanging open.

Will moves first, slowly tracing the faded scars on Hannibal's chest, possibly the oldest ones he has. He wonders how long ago he received them, and shivers at the possibility they both received them around the same time. Hannibal returns the gesture, pressing his fingertips against Will's own chest scars.

He lays his palms flat and runs them slowly up, over the gunshot scars on each of Will's shoulders. He had watched Will take each of those bullets, at very different times. One in the Hobbs' kitchen by Jack Crawford, when Will had finally seen Hannibal for what he truly was. The other from Chiyoh as Will had wielded his forgiveness in hand in the form of a blade.

The shirt lifts with Hannibal's movements, falling away to the floor as Will shrugs out of it. Will tugs at Hannibal's shirt until it too flutters to the kitchen floor. He can better see the wound on Hannibal's abdomen from the bullet he took for Will. The sound of shattering glass and the scent of wine mixing with blood swims across his mind. He envisions Hannibal sprawled on the floor beneath him, sweating and breaths coming ragged, holding a hand to the wound in an attempt to steady the flow of blood.

He had felt strangely peaceful, watching Hannibal writhe and pant on the ground before him. A quiet sense of power.

He slides his fingers along the puckered flesh, wishing in the back of his mind that he could dip his fingers into the wound. Disappointment flits across his eyes when his fingers come away clean of any blood.

He tenses as Hannibal's hands travel low, until his fingertips press into the long, curved scar along Will's stomach. Of all their scars, this one seems to carry the most weight for the both of them. Hannibal's hands are worshipful, and Will can see him attempt to blink away tears. Images of that night float through their thoughts, accompanied by an acute sense of loss and understanding.

Will could almost mistake the push of Hannibal's fingers for the sting of a blade, pressing into the touch in a similar way he had welcomed the knife. He lets himself wonder briefly, not for the first time, how things could have gone if he had allowed himself to accept his feelings for Hannibal at that time.

When he meets Hannibal's eyes, he knows that things couldn't have gone any other way. Everything that happened between them, every mark they had earned, all led them to this point. Over the edge of the cliff, into and out of the frigid Atlantic. Reborn in the icy waters.

Taking hold of Hannibal's face, Will pulls him forward until their lips meet. Eyes sliding shut, Hannibal's fingers never leave the scar as he exhales a little whimper into Will's mouth. It feels like lifetimes have passed around them before they pull away, breathless.

The smell of something on the verge of burning has Hannibal turning abruptly to the stove. Will chuckles lowly as Hannibal mumbles something under his breath in Lithuanian.

Will's eyes travel the expanse of Hannibal's broad back, catching on the round brand between his shoulder blades. His hands rub over the raised flesh, quiet anger bubbling just below the surface. The anger slowly recedes as he remembers Mason is long dead, as well as Cordell. He just barely remembers the scent of blood and flash of steel as Hannibal had methodically sliced Cordell's face clean off.

His arms wrap around Hannibal's waist, bringing his torso flush with the other man's back. Hannibal returns to his previous chopping, content with having saved the food on the stovetop. He rests his head against the side of Will's face as he nuzzles his chin into the crook of Hannibal's neck.

Will watches Hannibal's deft hands as he works. His delicate, yet strong hands gracefully moving the knife through the vegetables before him. Will's sharp eyes lock onto a small, almost imperceptible scar between the fingers of Hannibal's left hand.

"Where did you get that scar? On your hand."

Hannibal never ceases his movements, voice completely casual, "I had a finger removed when I was younger."

Will scoffs, bringing one hand from around Hannibal's waist to brush his fingers along the knuckles of the hand in question, "I've got to hear about this."

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading and for any kudos/comments/etc!


End file.
